After the Fire
by Dahmer's Glasses
Summary: A mysterious fire occurs in Mayberry, destroying the whole town, just as Opie Taylor is about to leave for college.


After the Fire

**Author's Note: I really hope the first chapter isn't too boring. I'm making Opie and Ritchie (Dick van Dyke show) the same age, since their shows from when they aired are fairly close to each other. Eventually they meet. :)**

_Chapter One_

The night came quickly today in the beloved town of Mayberry. It was a nice, breezy night, as it always was in the summer. In all the houses, the lights were turned off, and everyone was in their beds, snoozing, like they always did. Well, almost everyone.

Opie Taylor tossed and turned in his worn out bed. Sweat poured out everywhere, in every angle of the older teenager. Tomorrow was a big day. His life in Mayberry, the town he only ever knew, was going to be gone and replaced with the utter opposite of New York City.

He had every right to be nervous.

He had every right to sneak out.

His robe went up to his knees, and his slippers pattered the sidewalk with every step he took. His red hair, even darker now, was longer, for it went perfectly with his features. The ability to grow facial hair is there, and has been there, but he feels he looks smoother, more of his personality like, with a clean shaven face.

He passed by the shops, slowly, letting the cool air of the night hit him gently. In front of every store he reminisced his young, tiny body running around, visiting everyone. Everyone had a smile, everyone waved, they were all so happy. Ecstatic in their town of Mayberry.

Opie beamed, so wide as he passed by every shop. But the Sherriff station was hard on Opie. For eighteen long years, he had visited this place every day, and greeted his father. The place that was his second home. He learned so much there. He touched the glass of the door. Tears rolled down without him noticing.

Is it open? He cautiously pulled the door, and air got caught in his throat. The familer smell attacked him, but he didn't mind at all. He closed the door behind him. Every step he took, he remembered each year he was in here.

The third step, he was a just a mere toddler, in light blue overalls. He fell, and his father laughed and picked him up, hugging him. That's when Opie knew he'd always be there to pick him up.

The sixth step, he recalled how that same man had given him stern yet friendly speeches on good morals, something that stuck to Opie to this day.

The eleventh step, he was on the edge of puberty, on the verge of teenage angst and rebellious ways, but because of this human being who worked in this very same room for years and years, he was the only one who remained loyal and kind to everyone.

By the eighteenth step, he was at the desk, hovering over it. His hands touched the edges, and his fingers traced them soon after. His bottom found the old wooden chair, and it creaked as he scooted up more.

Moments after he saw his whole life flash before his eyes, he bawled onto the desk. His sad sounds flooded the room, his heartbeat ran faster, and he hung his head low. It was hard to say goodbye. For a while, he just sat there alone with the heart of Mayberry. An occasional sniffle was heard.

It must have been hours, and finally the natural of tiredness caught up to him. Slowly and painfully, he stepped out into the streets, and behind him, to the west, he saw the most horrific event in real life. It was a giant- no. Monstrous fire. Though not yet, it seemed like the flames were going to reach the town, and after the town it will reach the houses.

Opie felt hot. Was it the flames or the nervousness? What was it for him to do? Tell an adult? He was an adult. He wanted to scream, but his voice was gone from the weeping. He banged on every door, his fist turning red after ten shops. By that time he screamed "Fire." He got to the houses.

People came out, in pajamas and shotguns. The teenagers Opie's age headed towards the direction of the fire, but the redhead himself just wanted to go to one place. Home. In bed. When he went to the Taylor residence, his father was long awake and out. His beloved Aunt Bea, a mother figure since he was six, stood outside the house, his younger brother in hand.

His step-mother, was gone as well. Probably helping along with her husband. Opie was tired, he had too much going on for him in one night. Enough people were awake. They could stop the fire. The most exciting thing that has happened in Mayberry, and he wants to sleep through it.

The robe was placed carelessly on the pole of his chair, his slippers kicked off. The bed was long dried of the sweat he produced earlier. His body was flung on the mattress, and he was surprised that the frame didn't give up yet. His face was buried in his pillow, and he drifted off to dreamland.

The bedroom door was roughly knocked on, and Aunt Bea tried to get inside, to see how her young love was doing. But it was locked. It was barely locked. Her mouth turned into a fixated state. At least he was safe, she thought. And she left to put Andy Jr. back to bed.


End file.
